Aldrin von Creed
Stats Ability Scores: Str (17)+3; Dex (23)+6; Con (12)+1{Temp (8)-1}; Int (15)+2; Wis (12)+1; Cha(12)+1; Race: Human Class and level: Rogue 6 Assassin 3 XP: 41,185 Alignment: Lawful Evil Deity: Mask Speed: 30 ft. Hit Dice: 9d6 + 9 = 58 Temp:40 HP (Current = 33 HP) Armour Class: 23 Touch AC: 16 Flatfooted AC: 17 Base Attack/Grapple: +6/+1/+6 Saves: Fort (+4); Ref (+14); Will(+4) Initiative: +6 (dex) Attacks: * Rapier +1 - AB - +14/+9 (+6/+1 BAB, +1 MW, +6 DEX, +1 Magic), 2 lbs, 1d6+3+1 (str mod+magic), 18-20/x2, pierce, glows when held. * Rapier - AB - +13/+8 (+6/+1 BAB, +1 MW, +6 DEX), 2 lbs, 1d6+3 (str mod), 18-20/x2, pierce * Sickle - AB - +9/+4 (+6/+1 BAB, +3 STR), 2 lbs, 1d6+3 (str mod), x2, slashing * Sap - AB - +9/+4 (+6/+1 BAB, +3 STR), 2 lbs, 1d6+3 (str mod) Non-lethal, x2, bludgeon * Mighty (+3) Composite Bow - AB - +14/+9 (+6/+1 BAB, +6 DEX, +2 greater bracers), 2 lb, 1d8+3+1 (str mod+bracers), 110 ft, x3, pierce * Darts (25) - AB - +12/+7 (+6/+1 BAB, +6 DEX), 2.5 lbs, 1d4+3 (str mod), x2, 20 ft, pierce Skills: Hide (Dex) 12 ranks +6 dex +5 cloak of elvenkind = 23 Move Silently (dex) 12 ranks +6 dex +5 boots of elvenkind = 23 Disguise (cha) 12 ranks +1 cha = 13 Bluff (cha) 12 ranks + 1 cha = 13 Jump (str) 6 ranks +3 str +2 tumble = 11 Tumble (dex) 6 ranks +6 dex +2 jump = 14 Spot (wis) 7 ranks +1 wis = 8 Listen (wis) 7 ranks +1 wis = 8 Search (int) 6 ranks +2 int +5 goggles of minute seeing = 13 Sleight of Hand (dex) 2 ranks +6 dex = 8 Escape Artist (dex) 9 ranks +6 dex = 15 Knowledge (local) (int) 5 ranks +2 int = 7 Sense Motive (wis) 7 ranks +1 wis = 8 Climb (str) 7 ranks +3 str = 10 Gather information (cha) 3 ranks +1 cha +2 knowledge local = 6 Use Rope (dex) 5 ranks +6 dex = 11 Swim (str) 1 rank +3 str = 4 Feats: Dodge Mobility Combat Expertise Weapon Finesse (Rapier) Improved Feint Spells Known: Featherfall 1st Sleep 1st True Strike 1st Disguise Self 1st Alter Self 2nd Invisibility 2nd Spiderclimb 2nd Spells Per Day: 1st: 3 2nd: 1 Racial Abilities: N/A Class Abilities: Sneak Attack 5d6, Trap Sense +2, Improved Uncanny Dodge, Evasion, Trapfinding, Death attack, Poison Use, Spells, +1 save against poison Action Points: 0 Languages: Common, Undercommon, Ignan Possessions: __SELF__ Rapier +1 - AB - +14/+9 (+6/+1 BAB, +1 MW, +6 DEX, +1 Magic), 2 lbs, 1d6+3+1 (str mod+magic), 18-20/x2, pierce, glows when held. __SELF__ Rapier - AB - +13/+8 (+6/+1 BAB, +1 MW, +6 DEX), 2 lbs, 1d6+3 (str mod), 18-20/x2, pierce __SELF__ Sickle - AB - +9/+4 (+6/+1 BAB, +3 STR), 2 lbs, 1d6+3 (str mod), x2, slashing __SELF__ Sap - AB - +9/+4 (+6/+1 BAB, +3 STR), 2 lbs, 1d6+3 (str mod) Non-lethal, x2, bludgeon __SELF__ Mighty (+3) Composite Bow - AB - +14/+9 (+6/+1 BAB, +6 DEX, +2 greater bracers), 2 lb, 1d8+3+1 (str mod+bracers), 110 ft, x3, pierce __SELF__ Darts (25) - AB - +12/+7 (+6/+1 BAB, +6 DEX), 2.5 lbs, 1d4+3 (str mod), x2, 20 ft, pierce __SELF__ Arrows - 145 __SELF__ Mithral Shirt - Chain shirt, weighs 10 lbs, no check penalty, dex bonus +6. __SELF__ Cloak of Elvenkind - 1 lb, +5 comp bonus to hide checks when hood drawn. __SELF__ Boots of Elvenkind - 1 lb, +5 comp bonus to move silently checks when worn. __SELF__ Goggles of Minute Seeing - 1 lb, +5 comp bonus to search checks up close. __SELF__ Gloves of Dexterity +2 __SELF__ Ehlonna's Quiver Arrows, 25 Darts 2 lbs __SELF__ Ring of Protection +2 __SELF__ Amulet of Natural Armor +1 __SELF__ Greater Bracers of Archery - 1 lb, +2 to hit, +1 dmg, auto-proficiency; with any bow. __SELF__ Handy Haversack (74.5 lbs held) - Hold's 120 lbs (20 in each side pouch, 80 in the main.). 5 lbs __SELF__ Explorers Outfit - 8 lbs __BELT__ Grappling hook - 4 lbs __BELT__ Flint and Steel __BELT__ Spell Component Pouch - 2 lbs __BELT__ Thunderstones (9) __HAVERSACK__ Wand of Invisibility (43 charges) __HAVERSACK__ Wand of Color Spray (49 charges) __HAVERSACK__ Wand of Cure Light Wounds (50 charges) __HAVERSACK__ Tent - 20 lbs __HAVERSACK__ Bedroll - 5 lbs __HAVERSACK__ Winter Blanket - 3 lbs __HAVERSACK__ Rations (12) - 12 lbs __HAVERSACK__ Jug, clay - 9 lbs __HAVERSACK__ 50 foot rope, Hempen - 10 lbs __HAVERSACK__ Whetstone - 1 lbs __HAVERSACK__ Lamp, common - 1 lbs __HAVERSACK__ Oil (1-pint flask) - 1 lbs __HAVERSACK__ Flask (Wine) - 1.5 lbs __HAVERSACK__ Pot, Iron - 10 lbs __HAVERSACK__ VIALS: Drow Poison (2), Bloodroot (2), Greenblood Oil (2), Medium Spider Venom (1) __HAVERSACK__ POTS: Cure Light Wounds (3), Cure Moderate Wounds (1), Pass Without Trace (3), Darkvision (1) Total weight carried: 47.5 lbs. Total moneys carried: 2,052 gp, 2,600 sp, 2 cp left Appearance This young looking man might as well have black skin, for black is all you can see on his person. Not seemingly being very muscular, nor very tall, this boy as some might call him, depends on his small frame to get him through. An elegantly flowing black silk shirt covers his upper torso, with the collar ending in a v-neck, covered in cross-stitched ties. Underneath that shirt, if one were to look more closely, they could see metallic links of a chain shirt glinting. Where his silk arms end, the supplely thin leather gloves begin. Sturdy, but so thin, that they seem to be almost a second skin. His lower half is covered in a similar style; leather pants, and leather boots. The top of the boots however, stretch outward, instead of clinging to his legs. If one were to shine light on him, they could see glimmers of light, reflecting off of what looks to be an armory of weapons adorning his lithe body. At his left, an intricately designed rapier lies at his belt, waiting for use. To his right, a sap. To his back, a curved blade could be seen dangling from the belt-clips, as well as a grappling hook. And towards his front, rows of darts populate the belt- the man obviously prefers to have weapons at all sides. To further support that, a small bow stands side by side with his backpack. Everything is well-hidden from view by a black woolen cloak, his hood almost always drawn. What hides beneath the hood, one may wonder? Not many know. But if one were lucky enough to gain a glance, they would see steel blue eyes reflecting back at them. Otherwise, the face is pristine. In sharp contrast to his blackened attire, his face is as pale as the moon, and completely free of any facial hair save for his eyebrows, which are actually thinned out more than one would think. Atop this porcelain face lays a mop of black, straight hair, which is more often than not, pulled back into a tight pony tail. The ponytail itself never reaches more than an inch or two long, the man preferring to keep his hair shortened, and as such, some stray strands can be seen hanging down his face. Background The young man had poor conditions to start a life out with: his parents having both been killed during the war between Jaunty and the Realms. Being an orphan at such a young age (11) took a toll on him, and sooner or later, it was steal or starve. This was not a life chosen by him, but rather, a life of necessity. No one would dutifully hire the young lad because of his name, he found. The higher-class citizenry mostly looked down upon the ragged looking boy, and unfortunately for Aldrin, this is what he had been before the loss of his parents. Aldrin von Creed had been born a noble’s son, spoiled and doted upon since the day he was born. The boy was used to money. He was used to being waited on hand and foot. Servants would continually be there to accommodate his every whim, and above everything else, the boy found he loved being wealthy. Being rather mature for a boy his age, he knew little of, and cared even less for the war. It mattered nothing to a boy of nine years. For all he wished to do was play the role of the young boy, and nothing more. His father had been a ruthless businessman. The senior von Creed took glee in squashing the smaller businesses to dust, and inhaling whatever was left. He was the epitome of greed, and whether this aspect had transferred over to his child or not, not many people are sure of, though they would say what little Aldrin wanted, he usually got. His mother was a loving woman, when she paid the boy half a mind to care for him, usually leaving his wellbeing to the servants’ discretion. One could venture so much as to say that the servants raised him more so than his parents ever did. This continued on for the span of two years, before finally, his father got too greedy for himself. He had been trading in the black market, both in the Realms and Jaunty. The man liked to play sides there, and to always pick and choose the winning one. Eventually, one of the losing sides took an intense dislike to the way the von Creed had used him, and this ‘losing side’ trailed the man to his home in the high-class districts. Needless to say, the von Creed was as stupid as he was greedy, for he didn’t employ very battle-worthy guards. Their throats were slit before they had the chance to grasp their blade. Eventually, the man made it to the senior von Creed, and begging could then be heard- shortly after there had been a scream, and a death. Aldrin’s mother had been the less fortunate of her spouse and herself, for rather than be killed she had been kidnapped by the man. Sadly, the servants either ran off or were killed by the faceless man as well. But then the man came to the boy- Aldrin could do nothing but drop his toy in despair, for all he saw was a bloodied blade in the foreign man’s hand. He had seen the servants being slain, and had heard his father’s echoing scream of anguish. He couldn’t find his mother in the chaos either. He didn’t bother running. Not really knowing what was going on, the boy knew that his role as the boy was over, and that there was no more time for play. He closed his eyes. … And nothing came. No blade. No death. When he opened his eyes again, the man was gone. His friends slain, his father dead, his mother gone, he broke down in tears, not knowing what to do. Eventually, the guard’s of Virianas would come to the once noble home, to find it massacred. Aldrin was long gone by that point. He had no idea of any town guard, or royal knights, or anything of the sort. He didn’t care. All he wanted to do was play the part of the doted boy for the rest of his life, but that, was not to be allowed. Aldrin von Creed became a boy of the streets afterwards. He scrounged for food. He cared not for, nor trusted, anyone he came across. This served him well for a year, as it was all he knew anymore. He ate what little scraps he could find, and lived on the kindness of whatever citizenry would pay him a glance. He once tried to find any nobles who had once known the von Creeds, but they turned their faces in scorn and disgust at the boy’s condition, denying the existence of that name in their memory, while in fact, knowing them intricately. It would seem during his long and ruthless ventures, his father made little friends, and amassed many enemies. Upon a day as dark as the massacre of his family, Aldrin eventually gave his name to the wrong person, and found such an enemy. As many enemies of the nobles as his father made, he made twice that of the common-folk, especially in the black market trades. The man had pulled a knife and attacked, but luckily for him, he wasn’t worth his salt in a battle. The strike was haphazard, and easily evaded by the boy of twelve. Aldrin ran, being chased by the man, running into person after person after person. Eventually, after running into someone, a dagger dropped to the ground, and without thinking, Aldrin grabbed it, continuing to run. He hid in an alleyway, in fear of the man, grasping the dagger for his life. Praying to it that he wasn’t found, he shook back and forth violently. Then he heard footsteps- and tried to calm himself. Luckily for him, the man was just as breathless and ragged from the running as he was. He came across the alleyway, foolishly paying no mind to the shadows- and that was his mistake. If anyone were listening, all they could hear was a young boy yelp as Aldrin leapt from the darkness, dagger outstretched, and the spurt of blood as the blade gored the mans neck. That had been Aldrin’s second encounter with death. It shook him to the core. Many a night thereafter, he remained hungry, and longing for comfort. He shook violently those nights, still clutching that same dagger, praying that he could take it back. He never wanted to kill. He just wanted to play the part of the boy. That’s all he ever wanted. He kept that dagger until the next time he gave his name, where upon he was chased yet again, only this time he was not to be so lucky. Just as before, he ran, only to be caught. The man had him by the arm, and had a dagger in his hand as well. For a second time, Aldrin knew his role was at an end, and closed his eyes, knowing he couldn’t get away. For a second time, no blade came. No death. He opened his eyes to see the man lurching about, a sword through his gullet. “You really should be more careful using that name, boy.” He heard a gruff voice say from behind, as the sword was pulled out from the slumping corpse. Behind him stood a rugged man, of average build and average height- nothing special. But this ‘nothing special’ had saved his life. Looking on, Aldrin saw this newcomer go through the corpse, picking the valuables off it, speechless. “For you,” the man then said, before tossing a bag full of gold pieces at Aldrin, “you should really think about taking up the life. It pays, and well. Good day, boy.” The man then walked off, leaving the speechless Aldrin to his gold. In his mind, his role was at an end, so he left the dagger that he had been clutching for so long, and instead took the gold pieces. Taking the advice of the man, he began pick pocketing. He used the gold given to him to buy equipment, and provisions. Even the shopkeepers were weary of selling a boy so young such weapons, but he dropped the coins on the counter, squashing their hesitance. For the next two years, that had been his life, stealing, and killing to steal. Originally, it had been out of necessity, but soon enough, his father showed through in Aldrin, and he became greedy. He killed for wealth, and found he liked having a rich income. He never once again used the name of Aldrin von Creed, instead adopting the name of The Vagrant. Eventually, he heard word of a group who killed and stole for a much larger income, and he wanted to join. Within this group, he had heard that men who killed just to kill were abundant- and so, he set out to do just that. He went back to the high-class district, and tracked down those same people that had turned him away with scorn and disgust, deeming them deserving targets. He scouted the place, and became the very thing that had killed his family and innocence, an assassin. Aldrin is forever in denial of this fact, arguing that everything he did was out of necessity, but it still haunts him in the back of his mind. Soon enough, he was approached by a member of the guild, and was drawn into their ranks- the ranks of the Cloaked. Within two years in the guild, he had grown skilled, and ever greedy. He killed to kill. He killed to steal. He killed for orders. He killed for wealth. He killed mostly, for wealth. It was what he grew to be good at, and accustomed with, so he continued in that role until the continent was over run. He fled southward, finding port towns where he could, and travelled to the southern continent of Midrealm. He assumed the guild had been all but broken, as he was split apart from what companions he had managed to make before the loss of the land, and could find none in Midrealm so far. He soon became low on funds, and ever greedy, per the usual. He had found worthy targets in Midrealm, ripe for the picking, or so he thought- the people here were much more paranoid and battle-ready than those of Jaunty or The Realms. He almost lost his life, let alone failing in the assassination. Dejected, Aldrin drowned his sorrows in wine, before being approached by a beautiful elf. Normally, Aldrin would reject such propositions. He was not one to accept, nor give help to many, if anyone. But for some reason he found himself willing to help her, even come along with her and her orcish friend. He had no idea what came over him. However, whatever otherworldly power that made him join them, eventually wore off. He had considered leaving them for a time- as much as he was greedy, he couldn’t really bring himself to slay comrades for it, at least that much of the ‘boy’ he retained. On a whim, and realizing that he was still new to this land, he decided to stay with them, observing them. It proved fruitful, for they helped each other, and complimented each other well in battle. To this day, they still only know him as The Vagrant, and the elven woman still has some otherworldly persuasion over him- to what extent, he is unsure of.